If My Blood Met Yours
by fitzsimmons-with-prosciutto
Summary: If my blood met yours, they would touch, they would acknowledge, they would mix, they wouldn't like it, you would leave, and I would too, and none of us would see another sunrise. Sick-fic, AU, Ward/Simmons/Fitz. Chapter 2/6. Grant Ward is dying, and he doesn't want to take anyone else with him. Leo Fitz is in love, and he would give his life for hers.
1. They would touch

**Chapter 1- They Would Touch**

The fact that he knew this was gonna happen was what was pissing him off the most, while trying to keep his eyes open.

He should have stayed in bed and fuck everything, because he could see his blood leaving his body and that was not what was disturbing him.

The shocked voice of the person next to him was what was scaring the shit out of him.

\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\

When he woke up that morning, Grant Ward somehow knew the day was gonna be bad. He didn't know how, he just knew and he almost decided not to leave his bed, but his alarm rang again and he needed to go to work.

Damn everyone that had anything to do with the concept of waking up before 9am.

He rolled out of bed and got his pills.

Damn everyone that had anything to do with his disease, too.

¥=¥I

He liked to categorize days in "average", "awful" and "why don't I just die now?". Today was one of the latter kind.

Of course he knew he'd die someday (probably before what most people would assume), but somedays he wondered "why not today?".

Somehow, he thought that dying like this, a bit at a day, an invisible expire date written on your cells, was way worse than a car-crash, for example. You don't see a car-crash happening. One minute you are there, you are you and you are going to the supermarket/work/party and then some lights hit your face and you hear glass breaking and BAM.

You are gone.

But when your own body is sabotaging you, when your own blood hates you, infecting your heart and your brain and making you weaker, you wonder "why not today?".

He was a bit dizzy and he had to sit down again, before breathing in-and-out-in-and-out-in-and-out, until his eyes could focus.

Mornings were always shit.

¥=¥I

The thing about his disease is that no one had ever heard of it. It took his doctor 1 fucking year to find out what it was. Approximately 200000 people in the whole fucking world have it. And he had done the math, thats approximately 0,00003% of the world's population. No wonder no one knew the name of it.

Alsdorf-Harwick Disease.

Basically, your body hates your blood and your blood hates your body. A rapidly mutant condition in which you feel shortness of breath, are prone to infections and respiratory diseases and also your blood might decide to attack at any given moment, so beware.

Luckily, and he did use that word with a certain bit of sarcasm, he didn't have the acute type of it, he had the chronic one.

Deadly either way, the only difference being that he would last longer. He was 25 already, and showing signs of not watching the sunrise of his 30th birthday. Acute patients (usually referred to as "bleeders"), after contracting the disease stick around for only a month or two. He could imagine why. Your blood was always your friend and then suddenly it wasn't anymore. He'd be in shock too.

That's the thing about AHD, it's not just a normal fucker, it's the special type of fucker, the type that in a party would chat with all the groups even though no one invited him, the type that would eat your cake and complain that it was dry: you can either be born with it (the chronic patients) or you can get it, through infected blood (sounds nice, doesn't it? "Infected blood", like he is a fucking zombie of some sort) and then hasta la vista, muchacho.

Charming, ain't it?

¥=¥I

He got up, ate his breakfast, took a shower and was out the door in 10 minutes flat. He rushed to his car, a black Ford, payed entirely by the company (he couldn't afford a different brand of soap, let alone a car), and almost ripped the door out of it's hinges. He got out of the garage of his not-so-modest-but-definitely-not-fancy house (also payed by the company) and raced at the pornographic speed of 80mph through his street and down the interstate.

He needed to be at work at 8 and it was already 7:45.

What a marvelous day to be alive.

¥=¥I

The day went on as any other before, except for the incomprehensible change of the cafeteria menu: from the delicious lasagna to some sort of vegan low-sodium low-sugar gluten-free organic crap made of cardboard, judging for the taste of it.

Then his boss gave him a new gun to test and he got a new bullet-proof vest and everything was forgotten by the time he pulled the trigger.

And before some of you anti-gun people start organizing a rally or a protest or whatever, just know that his job was not the "lemme shoot people and kill them with the mighty power of compressed lead with a layer of copper" kind. It was to protect people with said mighty power. In fact, it was to test the people who would do the protecting part. He couldn't risk getting shot and infecting someone. It wasn't paying much, but it was enough, and as a gun specialist (a title he held with due honor and much more pride) he really couldn't stand people telling him to lay down the weapons and hug roses or whatever the new trend was. Guns were made for protection too, and he firmly believed in that. His job was to make sure it would be with a perfect aim, perfect weight and perfect amount of recoil.

¥=¥I

After six tests and two improvs, he finally called the engineering department to let them know exactly what had to be changed. The dude who usually answered the phone apparently wasn't there, so he had to leave the room and get the elevator to the 19th floor, where all the science freaks were.

He imagined that was what a nerd porn-mag would look like.

Tons of whiteboards and computers and all kinds of nerd-like paraphernalia were scattered around, and people were always yelling things like "don't forget to add the dehydration factor to the sample!" or "can someone help me calculate the vector of the neptunian gravity?". Not really his style.

He avoided three nerds in a heated discussion about something called "solar plasm" or something and dodged an asian girl balancing what looked like three decades of paperwork on her arms before he finally reached the engineering division.

Except no one was there.

- Excuse me, may I help you?- a distinctively british voice asked him. He turned around only to find a petite woman, with light-brown hair and brown eyes suspiciously looking at him.

- Um, yeah, I suppose you can... I just need to drop these off somewhere.- he said, fumbling the forms in his hands.- But I have no clue where the tech-guy is and it's almost 7pm. I gotta go home.

He needed to be home before 8 to get the second dose of the pills.

- Oh yes, of course.- she said, looking positively more relaxed now.- You can leave those with me. Fitz is sick today.

He wondered for a brief second who the hell was Fitz before it downed on him that that must be the tech-guy.

- I'd rather leave it on his desk, if you don't mind.- he answered, taking the forms out of her reach. The company privacy policy was really strict and he had no intention to look for another job.

- Fitz is my friend.- she said, sounding offended.

- Yes, but I am not.- definitely offended now, considering the gasp.- Now, if you don't mind, I gotta go home.- he said, pushing the lab's doors and leaving the forms under some sort of paper-weight. Or at least he hoped it was a paper-weight.

- Excuse me, Mr...

- Ward. You can call me Ward.

- Yes, Mr. Ward, that was hardly a polite thing to say.- she looked so offended he almost laughed.

- Get over it.- he said, leaving the room in quick steps. He really had to hurry if he wanted to make it home before 8.

He reached the elevator 7 steps ahead of her.

- Excuse me sir! Hold the door pleas-

Ding.

Oh, how he loved elevators and their theatrical sense of timing.

¥=¥I

Of course, the universe had a way of getting back at him. And obviously it would be with a bit of guilt.

He was leaving the company grounds, glancing at the gardens and the fancy doors when he saw her, the tech-guy's friend, standing on the side of the street, soaking wet from the rain.

He hoped the company would pay for the cleaning his car would need after he did what he had in mind.

He lowered the window a bit.

- Hey, you!- he yelled, and she looked his way. Her face immediately drop.

- Hello.-she said. Always the educated one, he thought.

- Want a ride?

- No, thank you. I'm alright here.

- It sure looks like that.- he chuckled. She didn't give him the privilege of an answer.

He sighed.

- Look, I'm not gonna apologize for anything. I can't leave classified information with someone I don't know. Period.

She opened her mouth to say something, but he was already getting a bit pissed off.

- Just get in the fucking car already, would you? I'm trying to be decent here, let's not make it difficult.

She closed her mouth and stomped all the way to the passenger's seat.

Oh yeah, definitely some drying up to do later.

- Do you mind telling me your name?- he said. She mumbled something.- What was that?

- I said "Simmons". My name is Simmons. Jemma Simmons.

And he said:

- Nice to meet you, Simmons. Now where should I drop you?

¥=¥I

The fact that she was a decent, polite person made it less hard to believe that he had actually given her a ride. He always thought good people get the good things.

Oh, he was fifty shades of fucking wrong.

\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\

- Oh God, oh God, oh God.- she kept saying.

_Okay Grant, you got this, don't let her touch you. Tell her to leave the car and call the ambulance and warn them about the AHD._

- Je- fuck, he couldn't say anything. God, what was that pain? And where was it coming? His stomach? Lungs? Liver?

- Oh God, it's gonna be okay, everything's going to be okay, I'm a- I'm a biologist, I know a bit of medicine, I can help until the paramedics get here.- she said, obviously affected by the whole 'we are upside down inside a metal carcass" thing. He couldn't really blame her. He didn't even see the other car.

- Ugh, I think my leg is broken.- she said, reaching for her left leg.- Yes, definitely broken, but besides that, I'm okay. And y- OH GOD!- she said, finally noticing all the blood and the steering wheel that was now a part of him.

She stood her hand dangerously close and he shrugged. She couldn't touch him or she'd be doomed.

- You can't t- God why did it hurt so bad? He needed to say the words, he couldn't let her touch him.

- Shh, it's gonna be alright.- she said. So fucking unaware. Her voice didn't match her eyes. Her words didn't warm him up.

- Don't tou-

- Calm down, Ward. I know what I'm doing.- she said, touching his forehead.

The touch was electric. She needed to take her hands off n_ow._

- Take y- and he couldn't keep his eyes open anymore.

- Ward! Ward! Stay awake!

And he really wanted to do that, so he could tell her to fucking move, to stay away, but his mind was failing him and the pain was more than he could take.

The last thing he felt were small hands touching his body and the pungent smell of blood.

He wished that was the last time his eyes would be open.

**/Final Notes: **okay guys, thanks for reading it! If you could leave me a review saying what you thought about it, it'd be great, but if not, that's okay, thank you a billion times for reading it anyway! well, this will be 6 chapters long, and i will be posting once a week i think, depending on how people will react to it (i mean, if you guys hate it i wont drag a dead fic right?). So, thats it, thank you thank you thank you! See ya guys!


	2. They would acknowledge

**Chapter 2- They would acknowledge**

Fitz woke up with the sound of his mobile under his pillow.

- What the hell...- he mumbled. It couldn't possibly be 7am yet. He was positively sure he still had a few hours of precious sleep.

He grabbed the bloody thing and was almost blinded by the light. Someone was calling him? Who could be calling at- 1am?!

- _Yes?!_- he answered, mildly pissed off by now.

\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\

**Tuesday morning:**

He cracked his eyes open, just a little bit.

He was in a nice, sunny room. There were flowers by the bedside and the blue sheets tickled his toes.

- Mr. Ward, can you hear me?

- I think he is waking up...

- Mr. Ward?

Oh God, the _pain_. He needed some pain killers. Strong ones.

- Mr. Ward?- there was a doctor in the room. A nurse too.

- Y-Yes, I'm awake.- his voice was drowsy.

- Mr. Ward we gave you some adrenaline to wake you up, but due to the extent of your injuries it is likely you will fall asleep again.

He nodded. He could feel his consciousness fading.

- Mr. Ward we noted something unsettling about your blood cells. There's an unusual amount of p-

- AHD.- he whispered. He needed to tell the doctor, tell him it was a code purple, a deadly pathogen in the building that they weren't aware of and people could die if he didn't mutter the words out.

- What was that?- the doctor asked, stepping closer.

- I have- I have Alsdorf-Harwick Disease.- the doctor didn't express any visible reactions. He probably didn't know what it was.

No one knew.

- I am not familiar with that condit-

- It's a code purple, level 4 biohazard.- now that was the reaction he was expecting. His disease deserved at least some wide eyes, paralyzed hands, maybe an open mouth. It was not just some ordinary flu. It was the prime time disease, the vip fucker.- Everyone that touched my blood needs to be tested throughout the week, the incubation time is less than 10 days and it kills in less than 2 months.

The nurse dropped the inox tray she was holding.

- It's a blood-borne disease and it is only transmitted through blood-to-blood contact.- his chest was hurting, a lot, and he was scared to look under the sheets and see the "extent of his injuries". He knew it wouldn't be pretty. He remembered felling the steering wheel inside him and he remembered the pain of breathing.- If everyone that handled me was wearing surgical gloves and didn't have any cuts on their hands and arms they should be fine, but they need to be- they need to be tested.

His voice was getting slower but it was okay, it was okay because he said it and now they knew.

The doctor looked beyond words.

- Ashley... Ashley, get the chief of infectiology down here and call a code purple.

His eyes were closing but it was okay. It was okay, he warned the doctors, he warned them this time. This time he was not useless.

- Now!

The last thing he thought about were her arms, her hands, and all the cuts the glass made and her trembling tiny hands touching him and his disgusting blood dripping and mixing with hers.

He never meant for any of this to happen.

He never meant to kill anyone.

¥=¥I

**Tuesday night:**

He woke up in a different room, screaming.

The pain was killing him.

No sun, no flowers, no blue sheets. Not now that they knew.

Behind the glass (they put him in a fucking aquarium, like a little experiment out of control) a doctor told him to stay calm, and after what seemed like forever a nurse wearing a freaking space suit came in and gave him the oh-so-merciful drugs he needed.

Time bombs don't get that kind of special treatment, do they?

¥=¥I

**Wednesday afternoon:**

The doctor came inside his room for the first time since he was transferred to the freak's area.

- Mr. Ward, after a brief meeting with my colleagues, it was decided that it is better if we contain the situation to the hospital. No one in the city will hear about the code, since it was decided that that would create an unnecessary commotion. All of the hospital personnel will be tested, although we firmly believe that no one was... That no one was...

- _Infected_. That's the word you are looking for. I didn't _infect_ anyone.

The doctor's cheeks turned a little red.

- Yes, we can put it that way, sure, but Mr. Ward, since you are not an immediate treat to anyone and we managed to stabilize you, you should be discharged tomorrow.

"Not an immediate treat". Maybe that's how the Ivy League calls hopeless bastards like him. He liked the sound of it. He wouldn't kill you just now. He would buy you dinner first.

- As for the woman that was with you, her injuries were not as extensive as yours. In fact, she had just a broken leg and a few cuts on her hands and forearms. We will call her and ask her to come to the hospital to get teste-

- No.- he said.

Oh, the poor girl.

She had cuts on her.

He _killed_ her.

- Mr. Ward, it is our obligation to contact her and advice her of the proc-

- She didn't touch me.- the lie touched his lips and it tasted like sour-tears and lost hopes. He couldn't let them make her last few days on this Earth a parade of needles and medication.

He owed her that much.

- You can't be sure ab-

- I am sure.- he sounded almost aggressive but he was sure that was not the reason the doctor said what he said next:

- Okay then. We will let you deal with the situation if that's the case.

He could read the pity in his eyes.

He hated it with all his damaged cells.

¥=¥I

**Thursday morning:**

The nurse didn't touch him when she gave him the prescription for the pain killers, or when she gave him the discharge papers, or when she handed him the forms saying he needed a medical leave from work.

They didn't offer him a wheelchair either.

He didn't mind.

If someone handed him an unstable nuclear bomb, he'd want to get rid of it too.

¥=¥I

**Thursday night:**

That night, he prayed.

He didn't exactly believe in God, but he hoped that was not an issue.

He hoped someone would listen to his simple wishes.

He hoped someone could save her life and take that weight off of his shoulders.

Amen.

¥=¥I

**Friday evening:**

Dear God,

Please.

Please.

_Please_.

_Please._

Amen.

¥=¥I

**Saturday morning:**

He finally worked up the courage to call her.

It was a really creative plan (he had to call his work, and then her department, and then her office colleague) until he managed to get her number.

When she picked up, he almost decided to pretend it was a wrong number.

- Hello?- she didn't sound sick. Her breathing sounded fine.- Hello?!

- Yes, hi!- he answered startled. Fuck. He should've said it was a wrong number.

- Who is this?

- It's Ward.

She breathed out slowly.

- Hi, Ward. I-I thought you were still in the hospital?

"_I should be_".

- Yeah, but apparently the bruises weren't that bad.

She laughed.

- Yes, yes, you are quite the macho I see.

- Well, I called to see if everything's okay... I mean, your leg and- "_and I'm sorry I destroyed your life_"- and all that.

- I'm marvelous, thank you for asking! Since my leg is broken I got a leave from work and I'm catching up with all the Doctor Who episodes I missed, and Fitz is taking care of me.

- Okay... Well... I'm glad to hear that.

Maybe...

- Yes, I'm feeling grand, thanking you for flipping the car.- she laughed again. She was being ironic, he could tell that much, but she didn't blame him for it.

But maybe...

- Ward, I got to run now. It was great catching up with you. See you at work?

- Yes, sure. Just- Just give me a call if you feel weird, okay?

- Got it. Bye Ward!

- Bye Jemma.

She didn't sound sick.

Maybe...

No, he couldn't let that kind of hope grew it's poisonous happiness in him.

But just maybe...

Maybe she was alright.

Maybe someone listened to him.

Maybe someone saved her life.

Maybe his kill-list was down to 1 again.

¥=¥I

**Saturday night:**

Dear God,

_Thank you._

Amen.

¥=¥I

**Sunday noon:**

He called her again.

- Hi, Jemma. It's Ward again.

"_Are you sick?_"

- Hey Ward! How are you doing?

"_Please don't die because of me._"

- I'm alright. How about you?

"_Are you sick?_"

- I'm feeling splendid, thank you for asking. The plaster cast is kind of itchy, but besides that, I think everything's fine.

"_I'm sorry_"

- Okay then. Let me know if you feel anything, right?

"_I'm so sorry_"

- Ward, it was not your fault, the accident. The other car came out of nowhere. Don't worry. I don't blame you.

"_You still don't know. I hope you never need to know._"

- If you say so...

"_I'm sorry._"

- But okay, I'll call if anything comes up. Bye Ward.

"_Don't be sick._"

- Bye Jemma.

"_Please don't be sick_."

\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\

- Fitz...

- _Jemma?_ It's 1am, why are you calling? Is everything alright?

- Fitz, I don't feel so good...

He got up. It didn't matter if it was 1am and he had work in less than 6 hours.

Jemma called. He was going there.

- I'm going to your house. Everything will be okay.

She coughed.

- Okay. I'm sorry I called, it's really late and you g-

- Don't mention it. How are you feeling?

- Not well. I think I got some super-flu or something. I can't breathe properly and I think my blood pressure is low.

- Stay in bed. I will be there in a few minutes.- he said, taking the car keys and his wallet. Jemma was never sick.

- Alright. Thank you Fitz.

- No problem. Bye Jemma.

- Bye Fitz.

He hang up and rushed to the garage.

He was gonna take care of her and she'd be okay and, luckily, he'd get a few more hours of sleep.

Everything was gonna be fine.

**/Final notes:** okay so, thats it for today. Dunno if it met your expectations, but i tried, right? Anyway, its just an exposition chapter... I hope it didnt suck too much tho. Regardless, reviews are very much appreciated, if you could spare the time to write one :D Also, before people start pointing out the fact that Ward is already all "oh jemma", no, he is not, and i will get to that next chapter. It could be anyone, as far as he is concerned. He just doesnt want to kill anyone. Anyway, i better shut up before i spoil something :X See ya guys!


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